or did others tell you this about me?" Jesus replies calmly, for he fears no man. Pilate takes a step back and momentarily averts his eyes.
"Your own people say that," Pilate replies, regaining his composure. "So tell me: are you a king?"
"My kingdom is not of this world," answers Jesus. "If it was, my servants would fight my arrest."
"So you are a king?"
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"You say rightly that I am a king. I was born to come into the world and testify to the truth; everyone who is of truth hears my voice."
"Truth? What is truth?" demands Pilate.
Jesus says nothing. He smiles and looks up into the single shaft of light that penetrates the dark cell. It bathes his face.
Pilate greets Caiaphas and the elders with thinly veiled contempt. "I have met your Jesus and have come to the conclusion that he is guilty of nothing more than being deranged. That is not a crime in Rome."
"He's broken the law," Caiaphas protests.
" Your law," Pilate replies smoothly. "Not Caesar's." The Roman stares hard at Caiaphas. "Teach this man some respect. Give him forty lashes and dump him outside the city walls. That is my decree."
"Nothing more? I cannot be held responsible for what the people will do if you release a man who has broken our sacred laws. Especially on this day, when our eyes are on God."
"The people?" Pilate responds sarcastically. "Caesar decrees that I can release a prisoner at Passover. I shall
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let 'the people' decide which of the prisoners in my jails shall be crucified, and which shall be set free."
Jesus is dragged into the courtyard by two Roman soldiers. His face is crusted in blood, and his eyes are now swollen shut by a fresh round of beatings.
Mary, his mother, gasps. She stands outside in the crowd, peering into the courtyard through the grate.
The soldiers now retrieve their whips.
Pontius Pilate appears in an upstairs window, and the crowd silences to hear what he has to say. "Today," Pilate states, "Passover begins. Caesar makes you a gesture of goodwill through the release of a prisoner chosen by you.
"I give you a choice," Pilate tells them. "You may choose Barabbas, a murderer, or you may choose this other man--a teacher who claims to be your king."
Laughter and jeers spew forth from the crowd. Caiaphas, who now stands at Pilate's side, yells, "We have no king but Caesar."
Temple guards move through the crowd, whispering instructions and receiving nods of agreement. "Crucify
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him!" is spontaneously shouted by members of the crowd who have remained silent until now.
Mary, mother of Jesus, is horrified. Her hands go to her face, and she covers her mouth in dismay.
Pilate sees the look on Caiaphas's face and knows that he has an answer.
"Decide!" Pilate shouts to the crowd.
"Barabbas," they roar back. "Free Barabbas."
Pilate is mystified. He looks at Caiaphas and then back at the crowd. "You choose a murderer," he tells them with a shake of his head, then holds up a hand to silence the mob.
"Do it," he says to his guards. The bewildered soldiers reluctantly unlock Barabbas's shackles. The crowd cheers.
"And this wretch," Pilate yells to the crowd. "What shall I do with him?"
"Crucify him! Crucify him!"
Pilate silences the crowd. "How can you condemn this man and spare a
murderer?"
"Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!"
"Very well," he tells them. "Crucify him."
Pilate reaches for a nearby bowl of water and washes his hands.
"I am innocent of this man's blood," he says.
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Pilate dries his hands. This crucifixion is no longer his affair.
It has been just five days since Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem. Now he is to be crucified on a hill outside the city walls, for Jewish law does not allow executions inside the city. Two criminals will also be crucified at the same time.
Jesus is in agony as he carries the cross to his crucifixion. His body is bent by the weight of the wood, and the crown of thorns inflicts a new burst of pain whenever the cross bumps against it. The many beatings he has endured in the hours since his capture make it hard to breathe.
Yet he sees everything. Both the sympathetic and not-so-sympathetic faces in the crowd. He also sees Mary, his mother. Jesus stumbles and feels the lash of a Roman whip as he falls. He reaches out to steady himself, pressing his hand flat against a stone wall.
The distance from Pilate's palace to Golgotha, the place where Jesus will die, is five hundred yards. Jesus knows he cannot make it. He drops the cross and